


Good Intentions

by cyparissus, woodenduck



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Autistic Character, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyparissus/pseuds/cyparissus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodenduck/pseuds/woodenduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cole can't understand why Lavellan can't promise, and Cassandra helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little follow-up story to [this comic](http://leafpuppy.tumblr.com/post/104954468625/leafpuppy-thppthpt-heres-a-follow-up-fic-for) co-written by me and [leafpuppy @ tumblr](http://leafpuppy.tumblr.com). Please read the comic first or this won't make much sense!
> 
> (Mihril is a Dalish mage inquisitor)

The pain is still echoing across Cole's skin, crawling across it like an itch he can't quite scratch. Normally, if he'd accidentally caused the hurt ( _especially_ inside Mihril), he'd do everything in his power to make it right again, but this was... Different. He still didn't understand why Mihril was hurt, and if he didn't know the why he couldn't fix it.  
  
Cole had seen the demons, read the stories, heard the thoughts. He knew the change was inevitable. Even the most virtuous of spirits eventually broke, no matter their intentions, and eventually Cole would break too. He'd always been comforted by thinking he'd help the most he could in the time he was given, and knowing that when the time came his friends would be there to stop him from hurting anyone else. He'd thought Mihril would agree. He knew Mihril didn't wish him harm, or wish him to harm, and there was a disconnect between knowing that and the pain that had shot through Mihril at Cole's question.  
  
No matter how he turned it over and poked at it, he couldn't make sense of it.  
  
He'd been wandering around Skyhold, just barely under people's notice, and found himself near the training grounds.  
  
Cassandra's thoughts had always felt comforting to Cole. They were neat and organized, quiet and strong but gentle. She was never very loud, even when she was angry or upset, and Cole had found that people like that were rare and special. She had promised, as well, to kill him when the time came.  
  
He hadn't originally intended to speak with anyone, but as he watched Cassandra going through her training exercises, her mind blank save for planning her next movement, he found his hurt and confusion mixing together and turning into frustration. Frustration was dangerous because it led to hurting, so he let Cassandra see him but didn't speak, not wanting to break her concentration. He sat crosslegged behind her, watching her movements and feeling comforted by her presence.  
  
Cassandra's focus is tight, and she doesn't take notice of Cole for quite some time, not until she takes a step backward and nearly trips over the boy. She drops her sword in surprise and brings her hands up to clutch at her chest, steadying herself with some effort.  
  
"Cole!" she cries, her voice pitched much higher than was usual for her, "You startled me! What have we said about the lurking and the spying?" Her tone is not harsh, however, and she drops down and sits down on the ground beside him to catch her breath.  
  
"I'm sorry," Cole says, his tone quiet and subdued, "I didn't want to disturb you. You were so focused." Cole disregards the reprimanding nature of her words, knowing she finds no discomfort in his company, and feeling more assured when she simply sits down next to him. He tilts his head foreward all the way to look over at her sideways as she wipes at the sweat on her forehead.  
  
"You promised," he says after a moment of silence, "To stop me. You promised you would."  
  
Cassandra looks confused a moment, before furrowing her brow and looking him in the eyes.  
  
"Yes," she says slowly, "I did. What's wrong, Cole? You haven't...You didn't, did you?"  
  
"No, not yet," Cole says, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, one foot tapping against the other, "I asked Mihril to promise. They said they couldn't. It hurt them to ask. They don't want me to hurt but they don't want to promise to stop me, either. I don't understand." A little of Cole's frustration leaks out in his last couple words and he bows his head, resting his forehead against his knees and pushing his hands through his hair.  
  
Cassandra closes her eyes, letting out a short sigh of relief. When she opens them again she looks at him pensively, pondering the expression on his face and the nervous tapping of his feet.  
  
"No, I didn't think she would agree to that. She cares for you. Ever since her confrontation with the templars, when you helped rid her of that demon that was fighting to get inside her," she says, quietly deliberating as she chooses her words, "At the time I thought her unwise for trusting a spirit so readily, but so far you have not given any of us reason to doubt."  
  
She crosses her legs on the ground and inches slightly closer to where Cole is hunched over himself, head on his knees.  
  
"She...cares for you a great deal," she says, "I know you have a difficult time accepting these feelings from others, that you often see yourself as merely a tool for doing good works. But you are a person to her, a friend. She puts you first, before herself. Perhaps even before others."  
  
Cole listens carefully to Cassandra's words and the undercurrent of surety in her mind; she has no doubts about what she's saying. Cole turns the words around in his mind, considering them and sorting out how he feels about them.  
  
"But I'm not a person," he says, without lifting his head from his knees, "I'm a spirit and eventually I'll break. If she puts me first, they'll hurt more when I break. I'll hurt her. I don't want to hurt." His voice takes on a plaintive, hoarse quality and he starts rocking back and forth, agitated at the thought.  
  
"I know you don't," Cassandra says, tentatively touching Cole on the shoulder, "And she doesn't either. But friendship and love can be...confusing, even selfish at times. She cannot assess the risk you may pose logically. If you do turn, there will be others who can stop you. Or we may find another way. You can see much, but even you do not know what the future holds for you. Perhaps you won't break. Solas and Varric do not believe you will, and they could be right, but Cullen and I will do everything I can to make sure no one is hurt either way. You needn't ask that of her."  
  
Cole stops rocking back and forth and looks over at Cassandra, considering her carefully. He remembers Mihril saying that, when they'd first met, that you can't know what will happen and there's always room for hope. Cole clings to that thought, that hope, his despair lifting a little.  
  
"Hope," Cole says, Cassandra's words making something click in his mind and it makes sense, "It's about hope, isn't it? Making the promise hurts because Mihril hopes for more. For better." He smiles a little, absently, relieved at being able to understand it now. He looks over at Cassandra again, his expression lighter.  
  
"You hope too, Cassandra?" he asks, tilting his head curiously. It's not a question of the hope existing; Cassandra's words and actions are practical, logical, but her heart sings always with hope. Cole is curious how hope can flourish within Cassandra when she focuses so much on practicality.  
  
"Yes," Cassandra says thoughtfully, a slight smile on her lips, "I do. And for the record, I do think there is hope for you as well. You want to do the right thing. I believe that you can stay on the path you are on, and you have friends who will help you not to lose your way."  
  
Cole's smile grows, and then reaches out, carefully putting his hand on Cassandra's shoulder like he'd seen people do before. The gesture was meant to communicate friendship and affection, or thanks, all of which Cole wishes to communicate to Cassandra.  
  
"Thank you, Cassandra," he says, "I am very glad I met you." He takes his hand off her shoulder just as carefully as he'd placed it there, then stands and walks away, following the thread of Mihril's hurt.


End file.
